


Just Like That

by Dorky_Deac0n



Series: John Deacon / Roger Taylor AU [1]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, OTP Feels, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 00:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17950133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dorky_Deac0n/pseuds/Dorky_Deac0n
Summary: John and Roger had been seeing each other for a while, not that they where together- But John was suspicious, he knew the nature of Roger.He was tired of the lies and the secrets and the postponing.He was over it.





	Just Like That

John couldn't believe what he was seeing stood in the middle of the Kosmopol club. 

He'd just left Roger to go fetch them both some new drinks after they'd both run dry, but the glasses had now been shattered into a million different tiny shards infront of his feet. 

In the span of 7-8 minutes, and yes, John had been counting just incase; somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach he knew fine well- Roger had his tongue down another's throat. 

_A woman_. 

The woman was typically gorgeous to John's mortification, fair complexion, long legs, black hair that reached the small of her back where it curled upwards ever so slightly, skimpy clothing to compliment her skinny yet curvy physique. She looked like some sort of porcelain doll. 

A tarty one.

 John hadn't been left dazed from the act, he'd been watching the harlot eye up his lover all night, seductive eyes, hand gestures and all; The type that left John's toes curled and blood boiled. 

John would've loved to have just run off into the night, let the moon take him wherever it had seen fit, but he found himself staring at the tandem and the worst of if all, is that they'd been looking back, like a deer in the lights of an oncoming truck. 

The three were all silent, so silent that the music that reverberated through the main hall of the club began blurring in their ears. Too silent. 

The roundheel (we'll call her Olivia) tried snapping Roger from his daze, but to no avail, his eyes remained fixated on John's, he felt as though if he'd look away his world would fall and disintegrate through his fingers. 

'Olivia' was vexed by Roger's trance and sauntered off, disappearing into the darkness behind the blue and purple strobe lights that illuminated the hall, never to be seen again, to which John's eyes followed, dropping Roger like a tonne of bricks. 

John wanted to say something to Roger, anything, and he should have, but his emotions fogged his brain, darkening over the parts that made it function. Instead he left he walked straight out the club and he didn't look back. 

He'd pondered if he should've driven home or not, he hadn't actually been drinking that much, maybe a pint or two, the influence of his exasperation on the other hand could've resulted in sinister outcomes. 

A taxi it was.

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺    

After a 10 minute cab journey, which John spent in the backseat staring out the ireigated window, lightly humming to whatever song had been playing through the cars speakers and trying to wash out that revolting image of that sickeningly beautiful woman underneath his man, he arrived outside his home, the home he'd shared with Roger. 

He'd been tempted to throw in an extra few quid to the driver to bribe him into driving the car full speed into the corner of the block but he digressed and got out, tossing a coin through the window as some form of tip, a pathetic one. 

He dragged himself up the path to the front door and fumbled with his keys in disarray before hooking them through the keyhole and swinging the door open, flinching when it crashed against the wall behind it but regardless, he slammed it behind him, making sure it echoed loud enough to drown out the buzz in his head, even just for a split second. 

He tossed his keys in the air, caring less for where they could've landed and stormed to his bedroom, his shared bedroom, the same room he'd shared moments with Roger, moments of happiness, moments of love, moments of lust. Intimate moments, that he once cherished and foolishly assumed Roger did too. 

He stared in disgust at the bed and without a second thought he'd began tearing all the sheets off, pillow cases included. 

If Roger could be so quick as to snog the face off some good for nothing, off the market whore in the space of less than 10 minutes, what could he have been up to when John wasn't home? 

The thought drove him insane.

He didn't bother to fix new sheets on the bed, not for Roger to tarnish again, instead he just kicked off his 4 inched platforms aside and climbed onto it, burying himself in the cold white sea of blankets. 

He could barely close his eyes let alone fall asleep, he'd been laid awake most of the night staring blankly at the ceiling above him, thinking of just how easily Roger could've been so treacherous and deceitful. 

Many explanations came to mind actually, but one stuck in his head, kept repeating like a bad tape. 

John and Roger weren't actually official, or where they? Nobody had really established, John was just going with the flow. Roger never even admitted to being into guys before John- not that it justifies Rogers actions after claiming to being absolutely head over heels in love with the bassist. 

Was Roger ashamed of John? Embarrassed maybe? Scared? 

John had been mere inches from a deep sleep, cascading to the sound of his own thoughts when he was startled by the front door closing shut, it was a gentle close in contrast to John's ample slam from before but it was still enough to make John flinch. 

He listened closely, close enough to hear light sighs and grunts, ones that were filled with bitterness and frustration.

He detected almost instantly that it was Roger who'd just come home- 4 hours later after himself. 

After a few seconds of footsteps he heard light movements of the door handle followed by a tap at the door. 

 _"John?...John its me can you let me in?"_ Rogers voice filled his ears, it shot through him light a bolt of electricity only to elicit a dull spark. 

John ignored Roger, he needed space and he knew it wouldn't be the wisest of decisions to let him in and talk to him. 

_"...Deaky?...."_

Instead John pretended to be asleep, in hopes that Roger would truly just fuck off and leave him be, he internally decided he'd deal with the drummer in the morning. 

Roger persisted for a good hot minute, trying to defend himself in empty ways that John let richochet off his thick skin and forced himself to fall asleep.  ≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺ 

John didn't sleep well, if at all that night. His lights went out at roughly 3am and were back on at 7. Just 4 hours, that in reality to John felt like minutes. He'd agreed there was no point in trying to force himself back to sleep this time and had to face the music. 

With a groan, a sigh and a rub of his face, he sat up and hauled himself out of bed, wincing at the drastic change of temperature. 

He knew Roger had been home, unless he'd left when John was asleep but he couldn't come up with any valid reason that Roger would've left again, he dreaded having to face him after his bullshit from the previous night. 

With a haver John unlocked the bedroom door and slowly pried it open, but before he could step out he heard a raspy and cracked voice call out to him. 

 _"Bloody hell John I'd thought you'd never come out!"_  

Of course it was Roger, that half baked blond. 

John shot down a glance at him, he'd been sitting against the wall just inches from the door frame, his hair was messy, his eyes cracked small red strands and glossed over with dark circles under them, dry lips. He looked a fucking mess to say the least, and part of John knew he'd deserved it. 

John felt as though he should've retreated back to the bedroom and locked the door again to hide, but he gave in, knowing it was now or never. 

 _"I don't exactly want to talk to you, Roger."_ John croaked out, his voice was coarse from not using it in atleast 9 hours and obviously from his previously sleepy state. 

_"Then listen to me instead."_ Roger retorted, his eyes full of plea. 

John couldn't take pity even if he wanted to. 

_"Listen to what? How you can just naturally justify shoving your tongue down some slut's gullet after i turn my back for 2 minutes? I mean really Roger, indulge me on how easy it was, why don't you tell me about all the other women you've been sleeping with too? The ones you've had in OUR bed?"_

 Roger tried to interrupt in protest, but John quickly shot him down. 

_"What is it Roger? What is it about me that just isn't enough? Is it that I'm just some easy way to forget about how lonely and miserable you truly are? I'm just the one that you come home to and hold at night when the party is over and the last easy lay has been laid?"_  

Roger couldn't even think of anything good enough to say in response to John, he was crushed that John felt that way about him, even if he didn't know what his own intentions were. 

_"Is it because... Are you afraid of being with a guy?"_ John asked, this time his voice was softer and more patient than previous. 

 _"Deaky... It's not that."_ Roger followed up. 

_"Then what is it?"_  

 _"I'm afraid of you."_ he croaked out, his eyes never leaving the floor beneath him. 

_'Oh don't be so fucking pathetic._ ' John had thought to himself 

Roger exhaled deeply, lifting his eyes back up to meet John's, those frosty green circles that had once shown a whole world of emotions, the same ones that would show warm love and compassion as he'd look into them before and after each and every kiss, whilst they made love they were hungry and endearing- any time they'd been together even if it was at a rehearsal or in public, they'd be fixed on Roger, full to the brim with tender love. 

But now they were pale, cold and emotionless. 

_"How on earth could you be afraid of me? I wouldn't hurt you, anybody who'd been paying any sort of attention to me this whole time would know I would not hurt you, I wouldn't hurt a fly not even if my life depended on it."_ He paused to take a deep breath. 

_"...and I couldn't hurt you even if I wanted to, to which right now, Yes I do, But I can't because I'm not that type of person."_  

 _"No! I'm afraid of hurting you."_

There was a prolonged silence that followed by John tutting, who had assumed Roger was just making this up as he went along to woo him back into being his 'used goods'. 

 _"Too late for that."_ John said bluntly and went back into the bedroom, this time he'd left the door open so he knew Roger could watch him loosely pack a bunch of clothes into a travel bag. 

 _"Wait- what exactly are you doing?"_ Roger stepped into the room, furrowing his eyebrows together in concern and panic at the latter. 

 _"Leaving."_ John said nonchalantly, as though it ment nothing to Roger. 

_"What? Just like that?"_  John remained silent as he zipped up his bag and looked up at the blond. 

_"You found it easy to go behind my back and play your cards with some stray, ' Just like that.'" _he made sure to put emphasis on the last few words that he'd mimicked. 

_"It was only a kiss- John we aren't even together why are you-"_

[John chuckled pathetically, knowing what Roger was about to say. " _You're Right_." he bent down to pick up his platforms and lazily sling them onto his feet before propping himself back up. _"We're not together, We never will be, I'm foolish for thinking otherwise_." and with that he'd slung his bag over his shoulder and left for the door, picking up his keys that he'd thrown astray the night before.  

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺     

And 'just like that' John had left. 

He'd now been walking down the street a good few yards away from the house, cigarette between his fingers occasionally meeting his lips when he'd deemed appropriate to take a drag, paying close detail to the way the thin grey smoke unfurled as it left his lungs, not looking behind him in fear he'd seen Roger trying to catch up with him, because he knew fine well he'd fall for it again. 

He'd fall for _HIM_ again. 

John had been dumb enough to fall for Roger in the first place, knowing the details of the type of person Roger was, but he wasn't dumb enough to let himself experience that pain again. 

_'Fool me once then shame on me, Fool me twice then shame on you'_

John had no idea where is legs were going to take him, but at this point he didn't care, he wanted to be as far away from Roger as he could possibly be and he was going to do just that. 

Tears pricked in the corners of his eyes, stinging bitter-sweetly as they rolled down his cheeks and dripped off his chin, until he'd found himself sobbing frantically, heaving with every breath he took. 

" _Stupid stupid stupid_!" He bawled in a whisper to himself as he cried, he was now half running half walking as he left the block. 

And just like that. 

_'Just like that'_

John was gone, out of Rogers life for good. He'd hadn't peeped a word to Roger at rehearsals, nor in the studio, before set or after. Not one word.

Hell he'd barely even given him not one GLANCE of hope. 

He'd even considered leaving the band if not for Freddie and Brian's disapproval, they'd understood though, assuring it would take time for them to get back into the swing of needing to be around each other, but for that he couldn't care less. 

Because John knew deep down despite all the _"I hate him!"_ and the _"I never want to talk to him again"_ that he loved Roger. 

_He was in love with Roger._

And that's what he truly hated most.  


**Author's Note:**

> I know, this isn't the best thing I've created,
> 
> But I tried x.x
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
